


No (Wo)Man's An Island

by writingramblr



Category: AU POTC, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End (2007)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending, At Worlds End AU, F/M, Lost Love, One Shot, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing the final battle to Cutler Beckett, Captain Elizabeth Swann, King of the pirate lords is left alone on a sandbar, contemplating everything. She soon discovers she is not alone.</p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	No (Wo)Man's An Island

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to "Sparrabeth" the official tumblr blog, and Cris, for all the hard work she does to make those beautiful picspams.  
> Relevant picspams that qualify as flashbacks that plague Lizzie on the island:  
> http://sparrabeth.tumblr.com/post/48490985560/you-belong-with-me  
> http://sparrabeth.tumblr.com/post/49043036504/my-blood-the-blood-of-a-pirate  
> http://sparrabeth.tumblr.com/post/47328839030/screencap-meme-norrabeth-norribeth-sparrabeth

The single sandbar was in the midst of a vast space of Open Ocean. The seawater around it was littered with bits of wood; scraps of fabric, and below the surface, dead bodies were sinking to the ocean floor.  
Pirate King Elizabeth Swann sat among the sand. Her boots were soaked through, and dug stubbornly into the wet beach. She had lost. She had failed.  
Her fleet, her band of free men who had risen to fight with her against the evil of Lord Cutler Beckett, had been defeated.  
She was still alive, because of the choice of one man.  
Jack Sparrow.  
He had sent her off in the last lifeboat, insisting on going down with his ship.  
She had fought him. Scratched and clawed at him with all her might, until he knocked her out, and gently placed her in the boat. With a single kick, he shoved her towards the one spit of land within one hundred miles of sea.  
Hot tears stung their way down her face, mingling with the salty air, so that when they burned her mouth and she cracked her lips open to taste them, they were as bitter as the defeat itself.  
She looked about, and through the fires and smoke covering the horizon, she could see the outline of several dozen ships. All flying the same flag. The East India Trading Company.  
How she cursed that flag, and all that it stood for.  
She cursed the man. If Will had not been the one to kill him with his last breath, she would have cursed the heavens themselves.  
There was some justice in this earth.  
Even if she had to lose the battle, lose Jack, lose her ship and her crew, at least Hell had gained one more soul to condemn to an eternity of pain and suffering.  
How she wished she could end her own life and join Jack in Davy Jones locker.  
All she had was her sword.  
What a painful way to go.  
No. She would live on in defiance of the man who had wrought all this chaos. She would live for Jack.  
A noise behind her startled her from her vengeful thoughts.  
The sound of sand scraping against wood.  
Someone was coming ashore.  
Elizabeth rose to her feet, her hand rose to wipe away the tears which had long gone cold from the ocean breeze. Her hand reached up, and yanked the hat from her head, letting her still damp blond waves fall free. She might as well announce her presence. She had nowhere to hide.  
She drew her sword, and turned to face the person who dared disturb her mourning.  
“Who are you, and what do you want?” she asked harshly, before realizing all that had come out was an astonished gasp. Her arm slackened at her side, and her hand would have loosed the sword, had she not been frozen in shock.

“Please. Don’t do anything rash. I’m here to help you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”  
Commodore James Norrington, “No, he was an Admiral now” She reminded herself fiercely, stood before her, still climbing out of a relatively small boat.  
She had crashed against the sandbar, turning her escape raft into little more than splinters.  
Come to think of it, much like the rest of her armada.  
Splinters, fire, ashes and smoke.  
She coughed a couple times; her throat was dry, and scratchy from inhaling so much smoke. Before long she found a bit of moisture to swallow. She prayed it wasn’t blood.  
“What are you doing here? How is this possible? I saw you die.”  
James shook his head, and lowered his own sword, edging closer to where she stood, still unable to move.  
“I know what you saw. I did die. At least momentarily. However, Beckett managed to threaten Jones with his own heart. He somehow bargained with him, my life or Jones’. Jones seemed to know the right decision. It was a simple matter for him to bring me back. So he told me.”  
Elizabeth was still confused,  
“Just whose side are you on then?”  
James shrugged,  
“At the moment? Yours. I am here to take you to safety. Shipwreck Cove I believe was the name Beckett said. It’s only a few miles away is it not?”  
Elizabeth shook her head,  
“It’s many many miles away. And without Jack’s compass, I fear I would never be able to find it.”  
Something deep in her chest ached, and as she had been forced to think of Jack, she realized something. If it hadn’t been for him, perhaps none of this would have played out. He had given her the push, the vote that counted. She would hate him for it if she didn’t love him because of it.  
Below the ache in her chest, was the hope glimmering in her heart. If Jack could come back from the dead once, who’s to say he couldn’t do it again?  
James had died. Of that she was certain.  
And yet here he stood.  
Looking resplendent as always, even his hair looked perfect.  
“Why do you still bother with that wig? You know it makes you look rather like a pastry?”  
James looked at her curiously, before cracking a rare smile,  
“You know what? I do believe you are right Elizabeth.”  
She raised a hand, and as she noticed it was empty, she had finally dropped her sword, she waved it about,

“No please. It’s Lizzie. Pirate King if you must.”  
James nodded silently, and stepped ever closer, and before she knew it, she was in his arms.  
Much closer to the ground. It seemed her knees had given out.  
Maybe it was the sun. The heat had dried her seawater soaked clothes.  
“What happens next?” she asked him, once she had forced her eyes open again.  
James didn’t look completely sure, but he answered anyway,  
“It’s up to you, King. I know it’ll be an adventure. You always did know how to drive any man crazy, Lizzie.”  
She smiled wearily, before her eyes fell shut, exhaustion claiming her.

**Author's Note:**

> The real question is, why did I write something so damn depressing? Honestly, I have no idea. But here's some food for thought, Is Lizzie dead and imagining this all from the Locker? Or did everything happen as she remembers?


End file.
